If there was ever a survey result that captured the dumbing down of British society in the early 21st century it is the poll that named Boris Johnson as the “most respected” politician in the UK.

If there was ever a survey result that captured the dumbing down of British society in the early 21st century it is the poll that named Boris Johnson as the “most respected” politician in the UK.

The YouGov poll, revealed the London mayor is respected by 58% beating even the Tory goddess Thatcher into second place. Cameron, Clegg and the Millibands scored minus points on their respect ratings.

Yet the word “respect” itself seems to have foxed most of those who responded to this questionnaire. “Most entertaining” politician, yes.

“Most recognisable” politician, certainly. Even “Most likeable” politician in a world where George Osborne, Michael Gove and Jeremy Hunt occupy the column inches Boris leaves behind.

But respected?

This is a man who has spent the summer packing more publicity stunts into his diary than the Kardashian family.

Constant visibility is always useful for an audience with short attention spans. Notwithstanding his complete lack of Johnsonian charisma, Ed Miliband has been bewilderingly absent through a fascinating Olympic summer that held the public imagination in its grip.

Boris, meanwhile, has never been off our screens. Wiff waff with Barbara Windsor. A makeover and manicure in the athlete’s beauty salon.

Getting suspended like a giant soap on a rope on a zip wire. Not to mention taking more credit for Olympic success than Mo Farah, Jess Ennis, Bradley Wiggins and Sir Chris Hoy combined.

While physically Boris cultivates a persona of slapstick buffonery, intellectually, of course, he has spicier sound-bites than Stephen Fry.

He is very, very clever. The classical references of his Etonian and Oxbridge education are merged with made-up terms from Johnson’s Dictionary.

Urging Hyde Park crowds to embrace “Olympomania” earned him a more rock-star reception than any of the real musicians who performed that night.

And no wonder David Cameron could only grimace with envy when his post-Olympic platitudes were completely usurped by Boris’s cheeky wit. Unlike his frock-coated contemporaries, this is a Bullingdon boy who knows exactly which buttons to press for Joe Public.

“You caused tube passengers to burst into spontaneous conversation other than being trodden on,” he boomed at the laughing revellers at the Olympic victory parade. “You did rack up more medals than France, didn't you?”

“Yeah!” the crowd shouted back.

Within hours of this epic act of scene-stealing the hashtag BorisforPm was trending on Twitter.

It’s not surprising in the context of modern pop culture.

The Boris phenomenon works perfectly for punters who prefer their politics packaged like a reality talent show rather than having to concentrate on the hard, boring stuff like what Johnson’s political beliefs actually are.

Well in a week that has exposed the full horror of the Hillsborough cover-up, it’s worth remembering The Mayor of London was editor of the Spectator when, in 2004, it ran an editorial which claimed that Liverpudlians ignored the now-discredited suggestion that drunken fans had contributed to the disaster.

It also accused those living in the city of wallowing in their “victim status,” and underplayed the scale of the tragedy by saying that “more than 50” died. In fact, 96 fans were crushed to death at Hillsborough on April 15 1989.

This week, Johnson repeated the apology he had made after the editorial appeared. Given his current Teflon status the reminder of his shocking act of misjudgment probably won’t stick.

He’s popular because he knows how to be populist.

Charisma is all that matters for those who are more interested in personality than politics and whose concept of voting is drawn from the X Factor final rather than the polling booth.

The YouGov survey may well convince the Boris fan club that he is now a realistic candidate to challenge Cameron for leadership.

If that prospect of Boris for PM isn’t alarming enough it also shows the only thing a substantial proportion of British voters now “respect” is celebrity.

Next page: How to beat the cold callers

After writing a column on the scourge of the cold caller a couple of weeks ago I’ve received some great suggestions from Western Mail readers on how to deal with nuisance phoning.

Tactics range from putting babbling six-year-olds on the line to telling the caller to hang on for a minute and leaving the phone off the hook for half an hour.

Another chap pretends he’s answering the phone while repairing his roof, tells the cold caller to wait a minute then performs a blood-curdling scream followed by a thud.

Other strategies included trying to sell the caller something back and conversing in Welsh or more exotic tongues. For example, when that scam Microsoft call came from India telling a friend his computer needed fixing he spoke to him in Singhalese and got a mouthful back in Tamil telling him he should speak English.

But perhaps the most cunning plan comes from Geraint Prytherch of Gorseinon, who kindly wrote to me last week. “Whenever they have rung up lately I tell them to wait until I die then they can ring up whoever comes to live in the house after me,” Mr Prytherch explains. “I find by telling them that they are not on for much longer.

"Mind you I am 78-years-old so I realise it may be more feasible for me than someone like you who is, on average, about half way through her life.

"Nevertheless there may be some friends of yours who may feel like doing what I do.”

Consider the tip passed on Mr Prytherch.

Next page: The mystery of Richard III

The discovery of what could be Richard III’s skeleton under a car park in Leicester has raised the unprecedented question of where to bury one of England’s most controversial monarchs.

While some have been calling for a state funeral with all the trimmings – just the ticket for tourists bereft after the end of the Jubilympics – the Queen is apparently having none of it. Sources say she has already indicated she doesn’t want the Crookback King laid to rest in either Windsor Castle or Westminster Abbey – where his wife’s remains lie.

Today’s royals might think they have it hard on the media front, but the last of the Plantagenets has been a PR disaster since Tudor times – thanks mostly to Shakespeare and Laurence Olivier - after allegedly bumping off his nephews to ease his path to the throne.

But I read Josephine Tey’s The Daughter of Time when I was 12 and have always thought that Princes in the Tower thing was a complete stitch up. He is not necessarily the Beast of Bosworth.

Yet given Richard has been entombed in a pay and display would he actually want to be moved anyway? Anyone who uses the NCP in Cardiff’s Westgate Street will know the obscene amount they charge per 15 minutes. Richard III is approaching the barrier after being parked for more than 500 years. A horse, a horse? He’ll pay a kingdom for his horse…

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